


the dance floor isn't there no more (but my body's still moving)

by confused_android



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Dick Gently, Dirk discovers his dick, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Some angst, Todd discovers him discovering it, Todd kind of sucks, ace Dirk, but he knows it and he's working on it, but mostly humor and jerking it, demisexual dirk, five times fic, seriously SO much masturbation, systemic abuse of the em dash, talking about masturbation, unrepentant smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confused_android/pseuds/confused_android
Summary: The first time Todd walks in on Dirk masturbating, he doesn't even realize what's happening for a minute. Dirk has one knee bent up beneath his covers, hair tousled across the pillow, and his color is high."Brought you a muffin," Todd says, through a mouthful of bagel.Dirk squeaks.---Or: five times Todd accidentally catches Dirk masturbating, and one time he doesn't.
Relationships: Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently
Comments: 32
Kudos: 127





	the dance floor isn't there no more (but my body's still moving)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation for why I've written 16.5k of masturbatory smut, but I'm not actually sorry about it.
> 
> Kindly beta'd by [tiny_little_dot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_little_dot) and [OrigamiBen](twitter.com/Mereel1138), and Dirk-picked by [wibblywobblybowtie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblybowtie)
> 
> Title from [Dance Floor, by Apples in Stereo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C66yhRwpt7s). (If you haven't watched the video yet, do so. _Trust me_.)

The first time Todd walks in on Dirk masturbating, he doesn't even realize what's happening for a minute. Dirk has one knee bent up beneath his covers, hair tousled across the pillow, and his color is high.

"Brought you a muffin," Todd says, through a mouthful of bagel.

Dirk squeaks.

"It's kind of hot in here," Todd says conversationally, chewing and swallowing with effort. "You okay?"

Dirk nods frantically, not sitting up.

"Uh, okay." Todd shrugs, drops the bag with the lemon poppy muffin onto Dirk's night stand, and walks back out. He leaves the door cracked, as he'd found it.

It takes a full thirty seconds before he stops in the middle of the living room, eyes wide. "Oh _shit_."

* * *

To be sort of fair to Todd, there was _literally_ no way for him to have known that was even a possibility.

"I'm asexual," Dirk had said carefully, seven months earlier.

"Can you tell me what the label means for you?" Todd had asked, suddenly desperately grateful for all of the blog posts he'd read when he was looking for, and eventually found, the word 'bisexual'.

"It means I don't have a libido, of any kind," Dirk replied promptly. "I don't think about sex, I don't want to have sex, and I don't think I've ever fantasized about anyone or anything."

" _Anything?_ " Todd asked, and then bit his lip. This is a judgement-free zone, Brotzman; don't fuck this up!

"Anything," Dirk replied, not self-conscious in the slightest. "I'm not particularly fond of erotic stimulation, either."

"Erotic stimulati – oh. Oh! Oh. Well that's, uh. That's totally cool. Great! Great. Asexual, that's great."

"Great!" Dirk had said, and that was that.

It did mean that Todd felt even creepier about his massive and _definitely_ erotic crush on Dirk, but seeing as he was absolutely repressing that and not acknowledging it in his _own_ mind (let alone to Dirk), it didn't matter at all.

* * *

The second time, they're running late.

Dirk doesn't realize they're running late – he's been in the shower for thirty minutes already – but Farah has called and texted his phone, called and texted Todd's phone, and is about seven minutes from throwing rocks at the apartment window.

Todd does not want Farah to throw rocks at the apartment window. He doesn't want her to be annoyed with them at all! She is a perfect and incredibly kind business partner / friend / financial backer, and she deserves to have friends / coworkers / investees who meet her places on time.

"I'm coming in," Todd says, already coming into the bathroom, hand outstretched to grab his toothbrush. "I'm not going to piss, don't worry, I just need to brush my teeth before Farah shows up."

It takes him a full five seconds to realize that, although Dirk is obscured by the tie-dye shower curtain (Dirk's purchase), his foot is visible, braced on the corner of the tub, and he is admirably but audibly stifling a moan. The muffled gasps are a dead giveaway too.

"I'm – I'm going out," Todd says, strangled. "I'm going out, and I'm texting Farah that we'll meet her there."

Dirk whimpers his assent and Todd beats a hasty retreat, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. He brushes his teeth in the kitchen sink and sticks his whole head under the cold water for good measure.

* * *

Todd resolves to never open a door that Dirk is behind without knocking first, whether or not the door is locked.

Sadly, this doesn't help.

* * *

The next time, they're in the woods. They're camping at a clothing-optional folk music festival, investigating one of the mandolin players for goat-fraud; they have matching little one-man tents set up on site B-31, just on the edge of the campgrounds. It's a smaller site than some of the ones closer to the big communal camp fire, but it's close enough to the woods that it allows them to more easily slip away to follow the sound of bleating or finger-picking.

The folk music retreat is… shockingly enjoyable, for both of them. Dirk is quickly adopted by a roving band of musicians dressed like fairies, who stroke his hair and tuck flowers behind his ears, and Todd gets to jam with some other string players in a yurt. Even the goats are sweet.

The afternoon of the second day, the August temperature is unbearable and all of the workshops let out early. Everyone at the retreat strips their clothes off and takes a running leap into the lake that the camp grounds abut. Dirk, his face flaming, undresses to his vest and boxer-briefs and refuses to go any deeper than his knees.

Todd is down to his boxers and underwater the moment he hits the beach; he spends some time splashing Dirk to try and get him to slide off the dock he's sitting on, but Dirk very primly refuses and insists that he's comfortable as is. He's seated so formally, his legs crossed, that Todd rolls his eyes fondly before diving back into the water and over to one of the pretty fairies he'd jammed with, who's currently nude and splashing his girlfriend.

He spends some time flirting playfully with both of them, surprised at how good it feels to exchange affectionate energy, before he paddles back to Dirk and the dock. Dirk is splashing himself with water, washing off some of the sticky sweat that soaks his hair, and he's sopping and pleased when Todd shows back up.

"Hi!" Dirk says brightly, eyes lighting up. There's water dripping down his face and chest, and Todd is suddenly very glad that the water is cold, and waist-deep.

"Hey," he replies, and sends a small wave of water up over the dock and Dirk's thighs, then sputters when Dirk responds with a squirt of water to his face. "Ugh! Asshole!" He flips Dirk the bird then laughs, and he braces his hands on the dock next to Dirk and hoists himself up, reaching for the towel he'd dropped. He mops at his face, still laughing, and turns back around to crack a joke at Dirk.

Only Dirk is suddenly frozen and looks, well – concerned? His eyes are somewhat glassy, and fixed somewhere beyond Todd's midsection, and his fingers are digging into his palms.

"…Dirk?" Todd takes a step back, absently tugging his sodden boxers from where they've clung to his skin.

Dirk blinks, and his eyes refocus. "Todd!" He looks up at Todd's face, and beams nervously.

"Are you... okay?" Todd rubs the towel through his hair, eyebrows fixed in their classic 'frowny-confused' shape.

"Yes! Yes, yes, absolutely okay. Never better. _Literally_ never better. Honestly, there's something about this water this is just, er, just especially invigorating? It might be _magic_ ; we should spend some time investigating the water source of this lake, and see if there are any claims that it cures all ills, or something similar. Honestly it's downright baffling how very, _very_ okay I am right now. So, er, no need to worry about me! I am a-okay."

Todd's eyebrows do not relax. "Uh…huh. Okay, then."

He keeps an eye on Dirk for the rest of the afternoon and evening, but he doesn't do or say anything weird(er than usual), so he puts the interaction out of his mind. They collect evidence against the mandolin player, then sing and drink by the fire that evening. Both men are flushed with mead and smell of smoke when they trip around tent cords and back to their camp site.

There's an awkward pause that Todd can't quite place, and then Dirk settles his hand on Todd's shoulder, thumb brushing his collar bone. "Goodnight, Todd," he says. "Tremendous assisting today."

That would be it – weird, but not too weird – except that Todd isn't used to sleeping in a tent. He and Dirk end up passing out in the car plenty, but this is much closer to nature than he usually sleeps. It's louder than he expects; crickets chirp and frogs croak, leaves rustle in the breeze, and something nearby is… crying?

He narrows his eyes and focuses on the sound.

It sounds like it's coming from the same direction as Dirk's tent – just to the left of his – and is definitely a human, and not a forest creature. Muffled, hitching breaths and small sobs. The gentle scrape of a disturbed sleeping bag. It honestly… it sounds close. It sounds like it's coming from Dirk's tent, and not one beyond his.

Is Dirk crying?

Todd stills in his sleeping bag; he's not quite sure what to do. Dirk has nightmares pretty frequently, and he sometimes comes into Todd's room for comfort. On other nights, though, he stays in his own room and cries – if Todd wakes up and comes into his room, he's embarrassed and awkward, and can't meet Todd's eyes all the next day. Will Dirk reach out for comfort and come to Todd's tent, or would he prefer to handle this one on his own?

His indecision lasts a few moments longer – should he let Dirk know he's awake? Bring him some water? – before the question is taken out of his hands. Dirk sobs again, and then –

– and then he _moans_.

Suddenly all of Todd's nerves are alert and he's frozen in his sleeping bag, barely breathing. Each sound takes on a whole new connotation; the stuttered breaths are frantic panting, the sobs are whines, the movement in Dirk's sleeping bag is –

Well.

Within a moment of conscious thought, Todd realizes he's hard, dick trapped between his body and the mattress pad. He grinds down slightly, breath catching in his throat, but freezes again with the faint rustle of his sleeping bag. He can't make any noise – Dirk will hear him and he'll _know_. He'll know everything about Todd's terrible, desperate crush, he'll know Todd is getting off on the sound of him, he'll know that Todd has secret but horribly inappropriate fantasies about him. And Todd's life will be over. Probably figuratively, possibly literally.

So Todd. Cannot. Move.

All he can do is lie there, listening to Dirk whimper softly. There's a pause for a moment, a larger movement, and then suddenly there's a new sound accompanying the breaths. A soft, slick sound, rhythmic and wet.

Oh god.

Todd's imagination _vividly_ supplies the picture of Dirk raising his hand to his mouth and licking his palm and fingers, pink tongue coating his skin with saliva to ease the movement of his hand on his dick. Todd's dick twitches valiantly, even trapped under him as it is, and he mentally wills his erection to subside.

It doesn't.

Traitor.

Dirk's voice, still soft, breaks and he grunts. The wet sound stutters and continues, and Todd squeezes his eyes shut. Why is this happening to him? He doesn't deserve this. Dirk is absolutely entitled to a sexual awakening in his mid-thirties, but Todd does not need to know that his roommate, best friend, and subject of the most intense crush of his life is quickly approaching orgasm less than six feet away from him.

And oh, he is. His movement speeds up, interrupted only by the quick sound of him spitting – fuck, _fuck_ – and his breaths devolve into harsh panting and whines. "Oh," he whispers, absurdly audible in Todd's tent. "Oh."

It's barely two more minutes before Dirk grunts again, and his voice catches in his throat, and he gasps in a rush. Todd wills his body to stillness, to not twitch and grind, and comes very close to succeeding as he listens to the sounds of Dirk writing in his sleeping bag..

Dirk pants harshly, his body still and quiet, then falls silent within five minutes, presumably asleep.

Todd is… not asleep. Not relaxed, not tired. He lies awake in his sleeping bag, focused only on not moving, not grinding his dick into the mattress pad, and doesn't drift off until the sky begins to lighten.

* * *

They're in Spokane for a long weekend on a case and it is definitely not his fault this time.

Well.

The client has only sprung for two hotel rooms. Dirk argues that as the titular detective of the agency – as the _only_ detective in the agency – he has the status to deserve the single, but Farah vetoes that by crossing her arms. Fine. Dirk and Todd are sharing.

It's a baffling case, involving a juggler (presumed dead), a lost heirloom, and a kindergartener's birthday party. They run themselves ragged over the course of two days. Todd gets slammed in the back of the head by a weighted juggling pin on Sunday afternoon and while he stays vertical with great effort through the obligatory client meeting, he leaves the conversation with police to Dirk and Farah and staggers back to the hotel by himself.

He showers, throws on boxers and passes out; he wakes up to the sound of Dirk unlocking the hotel room door and feels surprisingly decent. Dirk is grimy and tired himself, but strides immediately to sit on Todd's bed.

"How're you feeling?" He locks eyes with Todd and peers forward, studying for something in Todd's gaze.

"Eh." Todd struggles to sit and finds Dirk's hand beneath his elbow, gently tugging him up. "I've felt worse."

"You've also been shot," Dirk scolds. "That's not a decent metric."

Todd chuckles rustily and clears his throat. "I mean, you're not _wrong_ …" Dirk's fingers linger on his skin, slide up a smidge to rest on the back of his arm. Todd holds his breath. Dirk keeps them there for a moment, his body very close to Todd's, before he pulls back in a rush, fingers disappearing. Todd's skin is abruptly cold.

"I'm, er, I'm going to shower now!" Dirk's voice is somewhat high and he's suddenly standing over his suitcase, his back to Todd. "You and Farah should go out to dinner without me!"

"Are you… not hungry?" Todd carefully slides out of his bed and over to his own duffel to toss on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top; Dirk is intensely studying the wallpaper.

"No!" He shakes his head. "Nope. I'm not hungry at all! Don't want dinner. I have snacks in my bag, and that's what I'll have for dinner."

"So – are you not hungry, or are you having snacks for dinner?"

"Yes!" Dirk agrees, strangled.

"…I'll go find Farah," Todd says, and Dirk nods jerkily. He shrugs and toes on his sneakers without socks and lets himself out of the hotel room, grabbing the room key on his way past the dresser.

Farah's hotel room is right across from theirs and she opens the door a split second before he actually manages to knock.

"Todd!" she exclaims. "You're up!"

"Yeah, Dirk woke me up."

"That idiot," she says. "He was supposed to let you sleep while we went out and had dinner; we were going to bring you back something."

"It was an accident," he says. "And he just told me he isn't hungry, and you and I should go get dinner."

"He told me he was starving." Farah's brow furrows for a moment, and then clears with sudden excitement. "Oh, but if he's not hungry, we don't need to get weird fancy food!"

Todd grins. Dirk has absurd requirements for post-case take-out – back in Seattle, there are only seven places that deliver to their apartment that Dirk is willing to patronize after they wrap up a case – and the hoops they need to jump through to find food when out of the city are nothing short of ridiculous.

"Hotel buffet?" Todd asks.

"Hotel buffet," Farah agrees.

The pickings are meager at that hour, but they manage a decent meal with what's left; Farah has a cup of soup and a biscuit, and Todd hits the salad bar and roast beef station. He can feel the headache pricking at the corners of his vision and chases it back with a huge mug of tea (he won't tell Dirk, but it's beginning to grow on him) and two Tylenol from the kind clerk behind the front desk.

It's barely half an hour before Farah is yawning, looking pleased that she's only an elevator ride away from bed and not a drive through town back from some restaurant. They part in the hallway with an affectionate shoulder pat (Farah doesn't do hugs, when she can help it) and Todd slips back into the room he's sharing with Dirk. Maybe he can find a movie to start before Dirk finishes his shower, so he can't object to Todd watching something other than Pixar, for _once_.

The bathroom door is closed and the water is running, and he grabs the remote from below the television before sprawling out on his bed. He's about to hit the power button when he hears Dirk's voice slip out from the bathroom.

"Oh, _fuck_."

Todd freezes. It's practically an instinct now – he hears Dirk's voice, quiet and fierce with intent, and he goes still like an animal in danger.

"Oh, yes. Yes."

There's a moment of silence and Todd pricks his ears, listening hard through the white noise of the shower. With effort, he imagines he can hear the squelch and slide of Dirk's slick hands moving. His voice is quiet for a moment, then picks back up with a series of small gasps. "Yes, ah – ah –."

Todd realizes in a rush that Dirk thinks he's still out to dinner with Farah.

Dirk, while an incredible person in many, many ways, does not have the most robust theory of mind. To Dirk, going out is a wonderful way to spend an evening in a new town, so clearly Todd and Farah must also be excited about that. He wouldn't begrudge the hour or so that it would take to drive to a restaurant, eat dinner, and get back to the hotel. Dirk likely assumes he still has half an hour before they get back.

Fuck.

"Fuck," says Dirk.

Todd can feel himself getting hard, erection tenting his sweatpants obscenely. He can imagine all-too-vividly what Dirk must look like, especially after the bathroom incident back in Seattle last month. And the lake a few weeks ago. And that first time Todd walked in on Dirk in his bedroom.

Whoops.

One foot braced on the corner of the tub, hair dark with water. His face and chest flushed from the hot shower and arousal, his eyes pressed shut. Thin chest heaving, muscled biceps flexing with movement. He's a goddamn vision – naked, and audibly masturbating within earshot.

Todd puts down the remote and, without making the conscious decision to do so, presses the heel of his hand to the base of his dick, stifling a whine in the back of his throat. He keeps his hand there for a moment, pretending, trying to convince himself that he can will away his erection. He can be calm and rational about this, and turn on a movie, and convince Dirk that he hasn't heard anything, and everything will be fine. He has not just sat there and listened to the fucking symphony of gasps and moans coming from the shower.

His dick twitches.

Fuck. Is he – is he really doing this?

"Ah – ah –," gasps Dirk. "God, yes, _yes_ . _Ah –_."

He's doing this.

Todd slides his hand under his pants and boxers and shivers violently at the first touch of his hand to his skin. He brushes his knuckles against the shaft for a moment, accustoming himself to the touch, before sliding the palm of his hand over the head. It's dry and too much, too quickly, but Todd doesn't know how long he has until Dirk finishes his shower, until he comes.

He pulls his hand back out for a moment to lick his palm and fingers, briefly and vividly reminded of the sound of Dirk doing the same, and quickly reaches back down to take himself in hand. He strokes himself loosely, once, twice, to spread the slick around, and then tightens his fingers almost to the point of over-stimulation.

"Fuck, yes, oh god," Dirk moans.

"Fuck, yes, oh god," Todd whispers.

The sound of Dirk's own hands, wet and quick, is now explicitly audible, no imagining necessary. Todd speeds his movement up to match Dirk's and can clearly picture what it would look like to have Dirk kneeling over him, their dicks pressed together, hands moving in tandem.

Oh god, he is so screwed.

He's on the edge already, barely begun, and it's a difficult choice between coming immediately, giving himself more time to clean up and create some plausible deniability, or to ride that edge longer, writhing between the sensation of his hand and what he's hearing.

Dirk sighs dreamily.

…yeah, there's no question. This feels too good to stop.

Todd slows his movement again, slower than Dirk, and breathes deeply, focusing on what he's hearing from the bathroom over the sensation from his hand. It's a wave of sound, and he builds the picture of Dirk in his mind again.

Hand on his dick, water streaming down his pale skin (Jesus, if Todd believed in hell, he'd be sure he was headed there, and _quickly_ ). Would Dirk's eyes be wide with shock or screwed shut? If he was using his right hand to stroke himself, what was his left hand doing? Had he yet discovered other parts of his body that felt good? Maybe he was petting his chest, tentatively pinching his nipples or, _fuck,_ sucking on his fingers. Maybe it had wandered down to join his right hand, and was tugging gently (or firmly?) on his balls.

God, Todd wants to bury his face between Dirk's thighs and suck on his balls.

Dirk's panting slows and quiets, then he gasps suddenly. His voice shakes through another moan. "Oh, _oh_." He sounds stunned, overwhelmed.

Todd's brain suddenly provides another set of visuals so electric that his hips spasm without his consent. In the bathroom back in their apartment, Dirk's foot was braced on the side of the tub. What was that position meant for? Was it to steady wobbly knees, or was it –

Todd vividly pictures Dirk's free hand sliding under his dick, between his thighs, between the cheeks of his ass; gently reaching out and pressing the pad of one finger to his entrance.

"Oh god, oh yes," Dirk whimpers.

He sounds _wrecked_.

Without warning, Todd is coming. His back bows, his breath stops in his chest, and his left hand spasms where it's tangled in the sheets. It takes several long moments for his lungs to open, for the air to flood back in, for him to gasp noisily and ride the sensation of pleasure-pain, fingers rough and tight on his dick.

Vaguely, under the roaring sound in his own ears, he can hear Dirk's voice break as well, can hear a stuttered moan catch in his throat, an arrhythmic faltering of the sound of his hands. He whimpers a baffling set of consonants, "t– t– d– _fuck,_ " as he – presumably – comes.

Todd is immobile for several seconds, shivering violently from the force of his own release, before he realizes with horror that Dirk has finished. Dirk has _finished_ , and will doubtless be ending his shower very soon.

He forces himself out of the bed, thighs trembling, and leaps for the tissue box on the desk; fumbling for a tissue, he pulls his boxers down to his thighs to dab up the mess on his stomach and dick. (Dirk sighs gustily, and splashes under the water) The boxers get shoved into the bottom of his suitcase and he pulls his sweatpants back on with nothing underneath. (the faucet squeaks) Todd throws himself towards the door and grabs for the handle; he opens the door halfway, then pauses in horror. _His shoes_. (the water shuts off) He shoves the door open further, dives for his sneakers, jams his feet into them and catches the door just before it closes, barely preventing an audible click. (Dirk pulls back the shower curtain)

Todd eases the door almost all of the way shut, loudly jiggles the handle and shouts, "'night, Farah!", then steps back into the hotel room.

There's a conspicuous moment of silence from the bathroom as Dirk presumably freezes and reconsiders every choice he's ever made. No wait, that's what Todd is doing. This was a horrible idea, Dirk is going to know, and his life is going to be over. What the fuck had he been thinking? He desperately wills his heart to slow, his flush to fade, and takes deep, deliberate breaths as he loudly kicks his shoes at the dresser. He flops on his bed and grabs the remote and jams it on, raising the volume.

Dirk comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, one towel wrapped around his hips and another wrapped around his hair. He's got a huge smile plastered on his face, as if Todd can't read him like a book, knows he's entirely faking it.

" _Todd_ ," he beams, strangled in synthetic delight. "You're back! Early!"

"Oh, hey Dirk," Todd says, as if he's surprised at Dirk's presence. "Yeah, Farah and I just grabbed food from the hotel restaurant, and I came back up to watch a movie." He gestures at the television.

Dirk makes a skeptical moue. "You're watching 'Brave'? By choice?" 

Todd looks at the screen. He has literally no memory of turning that on. "Uh, I… knew you'd want to watch it?" Todd tries for a casual shrug.

"Have you been, er, enjoying it so far?"

"Oh yeah, it's, uh, a really good film. Disney really outdid themselves on this one!"

There's a moment of tension between them, Dirk's eyes narrowed in suspicion and Todd's wide in attempted innocence, before Merida's brothers leap over the table with the plate of pasties and Dirk breaks, relieved.

"Oh, I love this part! Todd – that is _so_ considerate of you. What a great assisfriend you are." He bounds across the room to his suitcase, and Todd's eyes widen as the hip-towel goes flying and Dirk digs for underwear and pajamas. He usually looks away when Dirk changes around him, desperate to maintain at least a façade of having platonic friendship feelings, but feels entirely incapable at this moment. He's just come to the sound of Dirk masturbating; all of his deeply entrenched barriers are crumbling, and he feels a terrifying combination of shame and warmth.

Dirk's skin is still flushed from the heat of the shower and, well –

Well.

Todd really is glad that Dirk seems to be enjoying his body and exploring "erotic stimulation", he genuinely is. He's not sure exactly how that fits into Dirk's identity as an asexual person, without any libido – does frequent masturbation imply that he has a libido now? Or experiences arousal? – but also knows that it is 100% not his business. It has nothing to do with him, it will never have anything to do with him, and that is okay. He will continue to be horribly attracted to Dirk, and will do his best to never be stuck sharing a bedroom with him. Ever. Again.

Dirk turns around from his suitcase, buttoning up the last of his pajama shirt, and catches Todd staring at him. His gaze turns funny for a moment, almost fond, or wistful, before it relaxes back into a tired but genuine smile. "Thank you for picking a movie I'll like," he says sincerely, climbing into his bed. "I do appreciate your consideration, especially given that you're the one who experienced a head injury today."

"I'm uh, I'm fine Dirk. I don't mind watching this with you."

Dirk's smile is interrupted by a yawn, and he looks so content and bonelessly relaxed that Todd's chest tightens for a moment.

God, he is so screwed.

* * *

It's barely a month before it happens again, but this time it is definitely Todd's fault.

Amanda's in town with the Rowdy 3 (6?) after a full two months driving across the southern United States. Todd isn't exactly sure how they choose their destinations and routes, but they're apparently planning to spend almost a week in Seattle, which is cool.

Okay, he'll admit it – it's way better than cool. It's fantastic. It's been almost two years since they saved Wendimoor and went their separate ways, and Todd desperately misses Amanda. Before Dirk showed up in his life, he'd go to see her at least twice a week; he spent his days off helping to clean or doing her grocery shopping.

He's beyond glad that living with the Rowdy… Several? means that she can deal with her pararibulitis. Even without the witchakookoo business that occasionally allows her to control the hallucinations, they can feed off of her attacks, and she doesn't have to be in pain. It's objectively the best possible thing that could have ever happened to her, and she is so, _so_ happy.

And things between them are… they're okay. They're actually okay. They have a good sibling relationship, and built up something of a friendship again over the last two years. She sends him snaps of the chaos that the Rowdies sow and selfies of her blade-sharp eyeliner, he responds with pictures of cats, and photos of Dirk stuck in trees or doors or cars or fences or – just stuck places. He gets stuck a lot of places.

So anyway – they're in town for a week, and Dirk has decided that means that everyone needs to come over to their apartment for pizza and drinks.

It's a tight squeeze – their two-bedroom is a good fit for the occasional guest, not nine people – but the majority of them are on good terms, so it works out. Vogel, Gripps and Farah are seated around the kitchen table, playing scrabble; Cross and the Beast are seated on the floor in the kitchen, in everyone's way, at least ten empty beer cans scattered between them; Amanda is sitting on Martin's lap on the couch while she and Todd talk about music; Dirk is seated on the other side of the couch, his toes shoved under Todd's thigh for warmth. There's a movie playing in the background that no one is paying attention to.

There are six pizza boxes stacked on the counter, a couple slices with various topping combos scattered among them, and everyone is at least mildly inebriated (except Cross, who is smashed, and possibly the Beast, though it's hard to tell with her). Dirk nervously watches the original four of the Rowdy 3, but they seem uninterested in his particular flavor of psychic energy that evening (though Dirk keeps a very wary eye on Martin, who is far closer than Dirk prefers him to be).

It's been a good and a long night. Dirk has had more beer than he's accustomed to and his eyes are half-lidded, lazily peering down at his phone while he plays Words With Friends with Hobbs and Farah (who is taking her turns in between her scrabble turns). He wiggles his toes absently while he ponders his next move and Todd frowns at him without heat.

"Quit it."

"Hm?" Dirk looks up through his lashes, only half paying attention.

Todd can't even hold his frown; he huffs a chuckle and shakes his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

Dirk hums and looks back down at his phone. He's lax and graceless, leans sideways to rest his head on the back of the couch. While he's not quite within arm's reach of the Beast, she's enthralled by the flop of his hair, fingers flexing with glee. Dirk is just slightly pink from the beers, and he twitches his nose for a moment.

Todd snorts and looks back to Amanda who is – who is _looking_ at him.

"What?"

She holds up her hands. "Nothing!"

Todd narrows his eyes. "You're not saying something."

"There are a lot of things I don't say," she replied airily.

"So what aren't you saying _now_?"

"Well, if I told you, then I'd have said it, and that would defeat the purpose of not saying it."

Todd crosses his arms and leans back against the couch as well, looking unimpressed. "I could put you in a headlock when you were ten, and I can do it now," he threatens.

"No you can't– I'm way cooler and stronger than you are, and I'd kick your ass."

"...okay, point."

"Plus, Martin would fucking crush you if you tried anything with me." She's matter-of-fact, and Martin – a quiet bear of a man – nods reasonably.

"Jesus, okay, fuck. No need to pull out the big guns."

"I don't like guns," Martin says. "But I'll use 'em."

"Uh… huh." Todd glances over at Farah for some backup, but she's busily texting someone while Gripps ponders two letter words containing Q; from the furtive smile on her face, it's likely Tina (he knows they have a regular evening call, and Farah sometimes drives to Bergsberg for long weekends. He's not an idiot – he can extrapolate from there).

When Todd turns back to Amanda, Martin is looking over her shoulder at her phone, and neither of them is paying attention to him. He rolls his eyes and stands to grab another beer and stretches his arms over his head. His shirt, a threadbare t-shirt from some band he doesn't even remember seeing, rides up under his ribs, and he feels the cool night air from the open window chill the skin on his stomach.

"Todd," Dirk complains plaintively, looking at his cold toes, and then up at Todd. "Why did you – oh."

Todd rolls out his shoulders, scratches at the fine hairs on his stomach, then tugs his shirt down and lowers his arms to look at Dirk. "Hm?"

"Um." Dirk is gaping up at him, his protest halted by… something.

"I'm just grabbing a beer; relax, man. I'll be right back."

"I –"

Todd squints. "Do you… also want one?" It looks like Dirk still has half a can resting on the coffee table by his hip, but Todd isn't going to rule out Dirk suddenly needing a different can for mysterious reasons.

"Do I want? I – I _do_ want, um." Dirk is suddenly stiff, tense, his earlier loose sleepiness gone in a snap. "Do I want one… one beer. One beer. Oh! Oh, a _beer_!"

"Yes, Dirk," Todd says patiently, opting to skootch past Dirk's hip as opposed to Martin's knees. It seems like a better idea, though Dirk looks up at him with wild eyes. "Do you want another beer?"

"No!" He shouts it, then suddenly blushes when the volume grabs everyone's attention for a moment. He lowers his voice. "No, I do not want another beer. I have certainly consumed enough at this point. Haven't you? Haven't we all? Certainly I can't be alone in feeling as if I've imbibed the _perfect_ amount for the evening, and oughtn't have more. Aren't you done? I certainly am." He grabs a pillow off the couch and digs his fingers into it, hugging it to his lap.

Todd steps over the Beast and opens the fridge, grabs out two cans and tosses one to Amanda, who catches it without looking and hands it to Martin. Todd does not feel like he's had too much; he cracks open the second one and locks eyes with Dirk, takes a long drink, then licks his upper lip.

Dirk, though, doesn't huff indignantly, or chuckle fondly. He looks…baffled? He's certainly flushed, and his mouth is still open. Todd walks back to the couch and Dirk scrambles to his feet, pillow still in his hands; he takes two steps away from Todd and almost trips on the coffee table.

"I'm done," he says firmly.

"Relax," Todd says carefully. He's warm and relaxed from the alcohol, but he can see that something is sitting stiffly on Dirk's shoulders. "You don't have to drink any more – you can make your own choices." He steps forward, but Dirk steps back again, and then again.

"No, I mean." He takes a deep breath, avoiding Todd's gaze. "I'm done, er, partying tonight. I'm very tired. I need to go to bed, right now."

"Are you okay?" Farah asks, abandoning the game and coming closer. "What – what happened?"

"Nothing happened!" Dirk insists, his voice high. "I'm just finishing drinking and I'm finished socializing, and I need to be in my bedroom – ah, in bed – ah, ah, _asleep_!"

"That's fine," she says soothingly. "That's totally okay."

"It's your place," Todd says, holding his hands up. "Go to bed whenever you want."

"Well, when I want is, er – right now." He looks hunted, almost penned in, and it occurs to Todd to step away from the couch. Dirk shoots him a glance, almost pathetically grateful, and walks stiffly past the couch towards the hallway, still tightly gripping the pillow to his midsection. He passes Todd.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Todd asks, more quietly.

"Yes," Dirk says firmly. "I'm fine. I just need to be – not in here. I'm, uh. I'm very tired. "

"Okay." Todd nods carefully. "That's totally legit." He takes another step away from Dirk, giving him space again, and Dirk's gaze softens for a moment.

"Thank you," he says. He pauses, as if he's going to say something else, but shakes his head and walks to his bedroom. The door closes with a click, and the room is quiet for a beat after.

"That was weird, right?" Farah says.

"Definitely weird," Todd agrees.

"Weirder than Dirk is every day?" Amanda asks.

"Maybe," Farah replies, but tries to look less concerned. "Todd, will you talk to him tomorrow?"

"Sure." Todd nods. "Yeah. I'm sure he'll feel better in the morning. Maybe he just feels sick." He's unconvinced, but opts to not dwell on it too hard. Dirk _is_ always weird, and Amanda isn't in town often enough to waste their time together. He settles back on the couch and Amanda slides off Martin's lap to elbow him fondly. "Asshole," he says without heat.

They watch the first half of _How to Talk to Girls at Parties_ and everyone but Farah grins in recognition at getting smashed up and joyous at punk shows. Cross is snoring on the kitchen floor by the midway point of the movie, and Amanda shoves Todd again. "Come have a cig with me," she insists, standing and walking to the window over the fire escape. He follows.

"I'm not going to smoke tonight," he admits. "I run after Dirk too much, and I can't breathe for shit when I've been smoking."

"Lame," she snorts, but steals two cigarette from Gripps's back pocket anyway before climbing out the window. She sits cross-legged on the cold iron grate between the kitchen window and Dirk's bedroom window, and Todd perches in the kitchen window, slouching to fit under the opened screen. They sit in silence for a few moments while she lights up and inhales deeply. She's backlit by the glow from Dirk's bedroom window and a streetlight, and the smoke dissipates in the dark. Their new apartment is in one of the smaller buildings in the neighborhood and overlooks the laundromat, coffeeshop, a liquor store, a Chinese food hole-in-the-wall, and a check cashing service. It's a narrow and dirty street, but the coffee shop knows Dirk's weird order and the change machine in the laundromat always works.

"Do you ever get the feeling this shit isn't real?" she asks finally, blowing smoke out over the city.

"This shit?" he asks, gesturing at the street below. "Or this shit?" he jerks his thumb back towards their very, very weird friends, currently shouting in tipsy glee at the film.

"I don't actually know," she admits.

"Yeah," he agrees anyway.

Amanda nods and takes another long drag of the cigarette.

After a few minutes of silence, her phone beeps and she pulls an orange bottle out of her pocket without looking at the alarm. She tips a small pill into the palm of her hand and looks up at Todd with questioning eyebrows. He nods and she pours a second one into her hand, twists the lid back on the bottle, and passes one of the anti-seizure meds to him. They make a mocking toast of their hands and both dry-swallow the pills. "It's easier," she explains after swallowing, though he hadn't asked. "I still get visions if I need to, but sometimes I bail on the Rowdies, and they don't like worrying that I'll get fucked up on my own."

"They're good people, aren't they?"

"Not really, but they love me."

"Same difference to me," Todd said, raw and quiet in his honesty. She smiles tiredly up at him.

They sit on the fire escape through her first cigarette and another one, and then Amanda reaches out her foot and kicks his. "Hey," she says.

"Hey."

"We're gonna book in a few."

He nods. "Yeah, I figured."

She looks away for a moment and then up at his face, suddenly oddly young. He's reminded that she's only twenty-seven, his little sister. It's been almost two years since Wendimoor, more than two since he forced her to grow up very quickly, and she's become a talented adult in her own right. A witchakookoo, and the leader of a gang, and a force to be reckoned with. It's genuinely awe-inspiring.

"We'll be around until Thursday or Friday," she offers carefully.

"Want to come over again, or grab a beer?"

"We've got – a thing," she says evasively," but after that, yeah."

"A thing. Uh-huh. Well, enjoy your, uh, your chaos and terror, and let me know when you're done sowing the seeds of discord. I'd love to hang out, just us."

"That'd be good," she agrees.

They sit for another minute or two, then she flicks the cigarette butt off the fire escape and down to the street below. Todd hops off the window sill and reaches a hand to pull her to her feet; they both grunt with effort, and then Amanda is standing. There's an awkward moment, then she shoves her shoulder into his.

"'night, asshole," she says.

"'night."

She hops over the window sill into the apartment. Farah's already gone (off to call Tina, presumably), and Amanda gathers the Rowdy 3, who trail her out of the apartment like ducklings. Cross and Vogel each shove beers into their pockets on the way out.

The door snicks shut.

Todd lingers on the fire escape, looking out over the street below. After the noise of the party and the conversation with Amanda, it suddenly feels like stepping inside will be too quiet, too still. Dirk is usually a force of life, bustling around after gatherings and wiping down the counters, but he's asleep now.

Well, presumably asleep. Something niggles at Todd's mind, telling him that's not quite right. He draws his eyebrows together and suddenly remembers the image of Amanda, sitting on the grate and backlit by the street light and –

– and Dirk's bedroom window.

Without thinking, Todd turns around.

Dirk's bedroom light is in fact still on. His curtain is drawn back and Todd can see clear into the room, sees his closet and dresser. His bed isn't immediately visible from the spot Todd is standing, halfway between his bedroom window and the kitchen window.

(Now this is the part that is 100%, without a doubt, Todd's fault. Not that any of this isn't his fault, but this is the moment when it tips from stupid to downright deliberate.)

Todd takes two steps to his left.

He sees Dirk.

Dirk is lying on top of the duvet, almost nude. His knees are bent and his feet braced on the mattress, not quite even. He's propped up on all of his pillows, head thrown back, one arm flung over his eyes, biting his lip. His briefs are pulled down, tucked beneath his balls, and he's slowly, languorously, jerking off.

Todd's chest seizes and the air freezes in his lungs.

Shit.

He's seen Dirk shirtless, he's seen him sans trousers, he's even seen him in nothing but briefs before, but never displayed so luxuriously. Todd can see the sweat beading on Dirk's neck, the slick shine he's spreading with his hand, the fine, reddish hairs trailing down to his dick. He can notice the way his toes are flexing, digging into the sheets, the way his thighs are trembling and his chest heaves with each gasping breath.

There's double-paned glass between them, but Todd has no doubt that Dirk is whimpering quietly with the movement of skin-on-skin. It says something about the number of times that Todd has heard Dirk masturbating, that he can clearly imagine the noises.

He should step back, step aside, climb inside. He should climb inside and gently shut the screen and pretend none of this has ever happened. That he hasn't seen his roommate / eternal crush fisting his dick, encircling the base, thumbing through a drool of liquid on the tip. That he doesn't know what it looks like when Dirk rubs his foreskin, pulls it over the head of his dick, draws it back and fondles it.

Jesus Christ, Todd's mouth is literally watering.

Not unexpectedly, he's also hard in his jeans. It's so secondary to his current visual experience, though, that it doesn't even matter. There's no amount of focus he can muster that isn't devoted to memorizing the sight of Dirk obviously and explicitly experiencing pleasure. The small moan at the first sip of tea, the sigh of release when he sinks into warm water, the quenched gasp at the end of a glass of water; all of these electrically charge Todd, fill him with a buoyant joy, to see Dirk living through sensation. This is more than those, and the same; it's erotic, it's sexual, but it's the same uncommon beauty of Dirk sinking into a moment.

This moment is so long as to be called an event – Todd is struck, stuck outside the window, and Dirk so leisurely draws it out. When Todd can see the small, helpless trembling in his thighs, Dirk slows down, squeezes the base of his dick, sucks in air like he's drowning. He pulls himself back from the edge and pauses until he begins again. It's almost awe-inspiring – Todd has never been that patient. It almost looks like he's… like he's testing himself. Like he's never tried this before, like he wants to know how far he can go.

Todd loses track of how long he stands there, watching Dirk approach the brink again, again, again. He forgets he's standing there at all, that there is anything unusual or wrong about his actions, that he should be thinking of anything else at all. He can't; he is both absent and so, so present.

It happens, though. Of course it happens. Inevitable as Orpheus, Dirk will look.

He's drawing himself down again, squeezing tightly, freezing. His dick twitches on its own, begging, and his next breath stutters on its way out. He rolls his hips in an agony of sensation, and takes a deep breath, and then another. He calms.

Dirk is dripping sweat, and he pulls his left forearm off his eyes to wipe his face, to smear away the shine.

He blinks in the sudden light.

He looks.

The moment slows as their eyes meet. Todd can see an entire spectrum of expressions pass across Dirk's face in the span of seconds: lingering arousal, alarm, dawning horror, and then shock – as his whole body seizes and he comes.

Todd can see white splash Dirk's chest and hand as he desperately, unexpectedly strokes himself through climax, not breaking eye contact. Todd knows he is gaping, can't do anything to stop it, watching Dirk spasm and tremble. After so long edging and calming himself, the orgasm seems to last forever, and Dirk is clearly overwhelmed with sensation. Even through the window, Todd can hear his long, low cry.

When his movements finally slow, when Dirk is gasping for breath, when he draws his slick and sticky hand away, reaches towards the window, towards Todd – time speeds up again, and Todd is unstuck. He finds himself capable of movement again and, without thinking, sprints down the fire escape and flees into the night.

* * *

He gets a full ten minutes into his flight before his lungs start burning and he has to slow to a walk, coughing. His phone has been buzzing for the last two minutes, but he'd ignored it, too focused on achieving maximum distance in minimal time (not that he knows where he's going or what he's planning to do next, but rationality hasn't been his priority yet this evening, so why start now?). Todd speed-walks for another few blocks, too fueled by panic to slow down, and eventually walks past a poorly lit park next to a pizza parlor, which is empty but still open. The park has a few benches and a dry fountain, and he slows to a stop and pulls out his phone. He's missed four calls, all from Dirk. Another one comes in while he's holding it, and he squints in the glow from the screen, holding a grimace until the call stops.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

Todd unlocks the phone and finds three text messages already, three dots at the bottom of the screen heralding more. He sits on a bench and stares at his phone in abject misery, reading each text as it buzzes and comes in.

_10:33_

_what the hell, todd??_

_10:34_

_was that real? i mean, did tha really happen?_

_*that_

_10:41_

_youre not in your room or the bathroom. the window to the fire escape is open. you cant pretend that didnt just happen._

_10:46_

_where are you???_

_10:48_

_tood_

_*tood_

_**TODD_

_10:54_

_what just happened? why were you watching me? that was really weird._

_11:01_

_please text me back._

_11:09_

_im upset but im also worried._

_11:15_

_i don't know why you were there, but i guess im sorry if i made you uncomfortable?_

_11:16_

_What?? No, Dirk this isn't your fault. You can't say that. I'm so sorry, none of that was on you. That was 100% my fault. I'm sorry._

His phone buzzes again and he hits 'accept' automatically, before realizing it wasn't another text message. Shit.

Dirk's picture comes up on the screen as the call connects.

Todd stares at the phone in horror as Dirk's voice comes out of the top, tinny and small. "Todd! Todd? Todd, I know you're there. You just texted me back. What the hell was that? Where are you??"

Todd hangs up. There's a full thirty seconds of silence, and then Dirk calls again. For no reason known to mankind, Todd hits 'accept' again.

"Todd, do _not_ hang up this time."

He doesn't.

Dirk pauses, noticing that the call has connected, and then hastily presses his advantage. "Okay, okay, first off – are you okay? Where are you?"

Todd swallows and lifts the phone to his ear. "I'm, uh. I'm fine."

"Oh, thank god." There's naked relief in Dirk's voice, and Todd's misery deepens. He says nothing else, and Dirk lets a moment go by, then – "Todd, where are you? What the hell was that?"

"I… I don't have a good explanation."

"Okay, so give me a _bad_ one. Give me something. What just happened?"

"I didn't mean to watch you. I'm sorry."

"So why were you?" Todd says nothing again, just takes a juddering breath. "Todd," Dirk says firmly. "You just watched me orgasm through my _bedroom window_. I think I at least deserve an explanation."

"I can't," he chokes. "I'm sorry, I can't."

Dirk makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat, then seems to remember that he's supposed to be angry. He tries a different tactic. "Was it… was it an accident? Did you just turn around at the wrong moment, or something?"

Todd shakes his head, then remembers that Dirk can't see it. "No."

"Did you go out there just to watch me?"

"No!

Dirk hums thoughtfully. "So you were already on the fire escape. Smoking with Amanda, I'd wager."

"I didn't smoke," he protests weakly. "I was just hanging with her."

"Aha, so you _were_ out there with Amanda! And then she left, and you stayed?"

He makes a small noise of assent.

"Well, thank god she didn't see me," Dirk mutters, then second guesses himself. "Oh god, _did_ she see me?"

"No," Todd reassures him, then swallows and takes a deep breath. "She left, yeah, and I was just…I was just hanging out. I didn't mean to –" he trails off. That's a lie. "I shouldn't have looked in your window," he corrects.

"You shouldn't have," Dirk agrees. "Were you… _are_ you still drunk?"

"Not really," Todd admits. "I mean, I'm sure the beer didn't help, but… that was all me."

There's silence between them as Todd studies the concrete beneath his feet, scraping his toe along the ground. 

"Can you – can you come back home?" Dirk asks carefully. "I feel like there's more to talk about here, but I don't think doing it by phone is best for either of us." Todd says nothing, but nods, and Dirk seems to understand. "Take your time," he allows, "but I'm going to wait up until you do. So, uh – don't take too much time, I suppose. I am actually kind of tired."

"Thanks," Todd said heavily. "Um. I'll… I'll be home soon, I guess."

They both sit on opposite sides of the line in silence until Dirk, with a kindness Todd in no way deserves, says, "I'm going to let you go now," and gently hangs up.

Todd stands almost before the call ends, slips the phone into his pocket, turns for home. The run has burned through the last of the haze from the beer, and he feels clear-headed for the first time in hours. For the first time in months, maybe. This transgression was the final straw, but it's obvious that his behavior has been unacceptable ever since he's first realized Dirk was… exploring his body?

Longer, really. He's been a hell of a creep, but he can be honest about what's been going on. He's had a crush on Dirk for more than a year now, desperately keeping his eyes peeled for glimpses of collarbones and calves, but the past four months have seen Todd without anything resembling a reasonable limit. Dirk only caught him the once, but he has to come clean. Dirk doesn't deserve to be lied to about who his roommate actually is. He doesn't deserve to live somewhere he'll be objectified. Todd is going to fix this

His shoes scuff the pavement, eating up the blocks as he heads back for home, planning and revising his words.

It strangely doesn't seem to take much longer to get home than it did to flee, despite not running back. He's warm at the core by the time he boosts himself on top of the dumpster and grabs the ladder to the fire escape, then clangs up the metal stairs to their floor, to their window. Dirk has closed the screen but left the window open, and Todd curls his fingers under the frame, pulls up the screen, and wiggles inside.

At the first scrape of the screen, Dirk pops out of the hallway. He's wearing track shorts and an undershirt, and he lingers by the fridge, unmoored, while Todd slowly slides the screen shut, the window shut, locks it carefully. Eventually, though, he has to turn around.

"Hi," he says, fingernails digging into his palms.

"Hi."

They stand facing each other for a long moment, then Dirk gathers himself up and walks over to Todd. He takes a long, calming breath, meeting Todd's eyes carefully. Then he slaps him.

It's a good slap. Todd rocks back on his heels, shocked, and brings one hand to his face. His skin turns white and then immediately begins to redden, a clear handprint fading in on his cheek.

"Oh," says Dirk, looking suddenly distressed. "That didn't feel good at all."

"I'm sorry?" Todd offers, fingers still pressed to his cheek.

"Because I didn't like slapping you, or for before?"

"Um… both?" He blinks, still a little stunned. "Do you want to try it again?"

"Do I – what? No! What is wrong with you?"

"I mean, we both know I deserve it."

"And that's why I _did_ it, and now I've _done_ it, and we can move on and _talk_ about it." It sounds so reasonable when Dirk puts it that way, but –

Todd draws his hand down from his face and squares his shoulders. He winds his fingers into the hem of his shirt and takes one gulp of air, then another. "It's not the first time I did it," he says.

Dirk blinks and cocks his head to the side. "I'm sorry," he says slowly, "but I could have sworn you just said that this isn't… isn't the first time you've watched me toss off. Did I – did I just actually hear you say that?"

"Well, uh –"

"Seriously?!"

"Not exactly." Todd says. Dirk is still – he's still really close to Todd's face, and his lips are pursed with anger, or confusion. It takes a full five seconds for Todd to realize that he's looking at them, and he drags his gaze up to Dirk's eyes.

Dirk notices.

"Not exactly," he prompts.

This is the only responsible, the only ethical thing to do. Todd has to do this.

"In Spokane," he mumbles. Dirk narrows his eyes and Todd feels his heart speed up. "After the case ended. When Farah and I went out to dinner. I came up early and I could – I heard you." He's so desperate to look away, to hide his face, but he doesn't. "I heard you in the shower. I mean, I – I listened to you. I jerked off and I listened to you."

"Wow." There's a long beat, and Dirk shakes his head. "Just – wow."

There's a particular thing that Dirk's face does when he has all of the pieces to a case, when he can _see_ that there is an explanation somewhere amid all of the bizarre circumstances that have occurred to him, and all he needs to do is find the connection. He rapidly scans through his mental files, matching facts with theories, until it all makes sense.

Todd does not want to be standing here when Dirk realizes what's been going on. That Todd has been hopeless over him for – for months. Fuck, for years. That he's not just a creep, but he's a pathetic creep.

"I'm sorry," he blurts. "I – I violated your privacy. I did… I was really shitty. I would be disgusted with me, if I were you. I mean, I'm me _,_ and I _am_ disgusted with myself. I'm, I'm, I'm going to crash in the office tonight, and I'll try and find somewhere else tomorrow. To go, I mean. To stay." He takes a step back, and then to the side, desperate to turn, to stop Dirk from looking at his face, to hide.

But Dirk shakes his head and refocuses his eyes. "Wait," he says. "Wait, when did we switch from your repeat voyeurism to you – to you _leaving_?"

"You don't need a roommate who – who spies on you," Todd says. He's wild-eyed, his heart is thumping. Dirk needs to let him walk away. He can't pretend to be okay with this. "You need to live with someone who can respect you." Dirk makes an offended noise, but Todd barrels on. "I'm not going to leave the agency, I swear. I wouldn't do that to you." He's too selfish to actually give up his time with Dirk, more like it. "I'll – I'll keep paying rent here. I'll figure it out." Maybe he can find a spare bedroom in some punk house that he hasn't burned bridges with yet. He could probably afford that and the rent on their current place, so Dirk doesn't need to find someone else to take his place. "I just need my wallet and backpack. I'll leave right away, I swear."

"Todd, what the _hell_. You've been my best friend for two years – I'm not going to drop you over one shitty thing you've done."

"It wasn't just one, though," Todd says desperately. "I did it twice, didn't you hear me?" He takes another step away from Dirk, but Dirk steps towards him once, again.

"Fine," Dirk says patiently. "You did two shitty things. And I am upset about that. I suspect I'm going to be upset about them for quite some time. But that doesn't mean I want you to leave."

"I _need_ to," Todd insists. He tries to back up again, but his back is to the living room wall, and Dirk – Dirk is close to him again, studying his face, eyes narrowed. Todd can't step away in any direction, he's penned in. Dirk stands there for what feels to Todd an inordinate amount of time, looking at him.

"Todd," he says slowly, lingering before the plosive. "Todd, why did you watch me? Why did you – why did you _listen_ to me, and – and touch yourself?"

Todd is physically incapable of making a single comprehensible noise. Dirk's face is – it's so close, it's so close to making the connection, and Todd can't – can't stop flicking his gaze between Dirk's eyes and his _fucking lips_ and –

Dirk steps forward again.

Todd whimpers.

Dirk freezes and cocks his head to the side, then presses forward again, stops scant inches in front of Todd, looking down at his face.

"Todd," he says again, quietly. Todd can feel the air from his breath, the heat radiating off his chest. "Normally, I'd acknowledge that this is a fairly forward question, but I think we can skip the formalities, given the circumstances." He pauses. "Do you fancy me?"

Todd – his voice caught in his throat, his lungs empty of air, full of Dirk – nods.

"How long?"

He shrugs helplessly.

"Well," Dirk says thoughtfully. "That does add a certain amount of ironic context to the last several months. But what on earth made you think that spying on me was a better decision than – than telling me?"

"I didn't think!" Todd cries. "Don't you get that? I didn't use my brain – not once! I'm an idiot and a creep and a jerk! I didn't think at all!" He pushes himself forward, trying to surprise Dirk into stepping back, but it doesn't work. It – it gets worse, actually. His chest presses against Dirk's, and Dirk just _looks_ down at him, still quizzical, still exasperated.

"I don't buy it," he says firmly. "You're smarter than that. Why didn't you tell me?" Todd opens his mouth to say something, say _anything_ , but Dirk presses one finger between his collarbones, pushes him back into the wall with gentle pressure, looms over him. "No really. Why, Todd."

"I didn't want you to know," Todd admits, frantic. He can barely think, Dirk is so close to him, his finger lingering on Todd's chest. Heat rises to his face, and he can feel a flush of – of some emotion creeping up his neck, his face, his ears. "You said, you said you were asexual, and then you weren't? I mean, I don't know – I looked it up! Maybe you are? They all said that you could be, even if you suddenly started – started – "

"Masturbating," Dirk says.

Todd makes a sound like he's been punched. He nods miserably. "I didn't want you to think that I was a creep for wanting you when you didn't want sex. I know that isn't okay. I didn't want to pressure you, or make you uncomfortable. I didn't want anything to change between us, or to make you think that I didn't – didn't – didn't respect your label, your identity."

"Do you know," Dirk says conversationally, "that I've _also_ been taken somewhat by surprise these last few months. I thought for many years that I would never have any interest in sex or physicality or erotic touch." He shrugs, almost casually. "I didn't expect to discover a libido at age thirty-five."

What changed? Todd wants to ask. Why are you telling me this? Why won't you move away, let me leave, let me curl around my mortification in peace?

"Tina helped me do some research," Dirk replies, as if he's heard Todd. "She told me that there are different ways to be asexual. That there are a whole spectrum of identities that fall under that label."

There's a long silence after Dirk says that. He seems to be waiting for Todd to say something, to respond somehow. Todd isn't – he isn't really sure how he can possibly respond, to be honest. He and Dirk seem to be having two different conversations at this point. He's trying to explain how he's fucked up, how he needs to give Dirk space, how he needs to _take_ space, and Dirk is… talking about queer labels and language? There is literally no context that Todd can construct that makes this conversation make sense. He doesn't _need_ to know why Dirk has started – started masturbating (even if he desperately wants to know). Dirk's a grown adult, he's allowed to do whatever he wants, and he's entitled to do it without being metaphorically molested by his inappropriate, creepy-ass roommate.

Dirk waits another few seconds, but when Todd remains quiet, he frowns slightly. "I'm demisexual," he says.

"Um," says Todd.

"That means that I experience sexual attraction when I've formed an emotional attachment with someone."

"Oh, uh," says Todd. "Wow. That's um. That's great? I guess I didn't – I didn't know you were, uh – dating someone? Shit, I guess – into someone?" His face crumples without his permission, desperation written across his eyes. Dirk doesn't seem to notice. "Fuck, that's even weirder. I mean, of me, not of you. I mean, not that it wasn't weird if you weren't into someone. That was shitty whether or not you, uh, have a… boyfriend? Someone?"

Dirk says nothing.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," Todd admits. The pressure of Dirk's finger against his chest is light, barely there, but it feels like an iron weight. "Like, thank you for telling me about yourself. And for… trusting me? I don't think I deserve that right now, though. Unless you're – you're telling me that I hurt you and also someone else, wow, in which case, I… I still don't what to say."

Dirk sighs in frustration. "Todd, you really are thick, aren't you?" 

Todd opens his mouth to – well, not to defend himself, but to say _something,_ but Dirk, without warning, fists his hand in Todd's shirt and yanks him forward the final few inches between them. 

It takes Todd a full five seconds to process what's happening. Dirk's lips are warm and lush against his and he smells intoxicatingly of sweat and beer. Vaguely, in the back of Todd's head, he realizes that Dirk probably hasn't showered since – since earlier, and he shivers at the thought of Dirk pulling clothes back on over his sweat-soaked body, coming out to look for him in the living room.

Eventually, though, it permeates that Dirk is kissing him. Dirk is – he's _kissing Todd._ Not someone else. Not some other person. Todd, who needs to be out the door already, who needs to give Dirk all the space in the world, is being kissed. By Dirk. The person he violated.

"Stop," Todd chokes, pulling away from Dirk. "Stop." Dirk instinctively trails after, angling his face down towards Todd's again, but Todd finally throws his hands up, pushes against Dirk's shoulders, pushes him away. It takes a moment – Dirk's hand is still tangled in his shirt and the fabric stretches until he uncurls his fist.

"What?" Dirk demands. "Why? You _just said_ you wanted this!"

"You can't, I – _I_ can't." Todd pushes Dirk harder, shoves him away, finally gets the space to move. He stumbles away from Dirk, trips on the coffee table, rights himself in the middle of the living room. He's panting, frantic, and can barely think. Fuck his wallet, he needs to leave _now_. He backs away, towards the door.

"Why can't you?" Dirk looks baffled and offended, and his hand is still draped in mid-air where he's had it fisted in Todd's shirt.

"What do you mean? I – I can't! I fucked up!"

"And that means you aren't allowed to want this? Because you want me – " he breaks off, looking suddenly unsure. "You do, um. You do want me, right? Am I – oh. You said that you, you fancied me, and I, um. May have made some assumptions?" His hand drops and his shoulders rise and Todd is drawn forward despite the panic simmering under his breastbone.

"No, I do! Fuck, I _do_ want you. I –" he rubs his face. He's completely lost the ability to guess where this conversation is going, where it even began, but there is no reason to hold anything back now. "I want you. But not just for, uh. For sex. I – I really like you, Dirk. And I… I can't just kiss you? I don't think I could handle that."

"Did you not hear a word I said? Demisexual doesn't just mean I want to fuck, Todd. I also want more than that, you idiot."

"But I hurt you!" Todd blurts. "I – I can't just… You can't want – want _this_!" He gestures towards his chest

Dirk's face softens. He steps towards Todd, carefully avoiding the coffee table, and holds his hands up in a non-threatening, soothing gesture. "Fucking up doesn't mean you aren't ever allowed to be happy. It doesn't _even_ mean you don't get to succeed where you've failed. It means we spend a lot of time building trust and talking about that specific thing that you fucked up. We get to enjoy things together. You get to be happy, even when you do shitty things."

"Sounds fake, but okay," Todd mutters, and Dirk snorts despite himself. There's less terror shimmering from Todd's face, and Dirk gets the hopeful feeling that he's not about to bolt for the door. He's not counting on it, though, so instead of walking closer to Todd, possibly spooking him, he sits on the arm of the couch and gestures hopefully towards the other side. There's a long moment where Dirk can _see_ Todd contemplating bolting for the door, but then he perches tentatively across from him and they sit in silence for a few minutes. Todd takes deep breaths, tries to bring himself down from his panic, and Dirk carefully thinks through his next words.

"Can we try and start this conversation over? I feel like… we went off in a few different directions. Like, er – " he jerks his thumb towards the door, and Todd looks sheepish.

"I guess I… panicked?"

Dirk makes an 'obviously' face, and Todd rubs at his knees. "Can you start?" he asks. "I…I feel worried that I'll say the wrong thing, or that I've entirely misjudged this whole conversation, and if I say the wrong thing, I'll be –"

"Embarrassed?"

"To say the least," Todd agrees. "More like, humiliated and mortified. And uh. Very, very gone."

"I like you," Dirk says bravely. "I like you a _lot_. I've thought about, er. Holding your hand and kissing you. And then a few months ago, I started also thinking about –" He stops and takes a deep breath, looks at the floor. "About having, um. Having sex. And – touching you."

"Wow."

"I've never wanted that before. I didn't think I _could_ want that. I thought I was broken, for a really, really long time. And a friend in uni told me I wasn't, that there was a word for not wanting to have sex with anyone, and that it was okay. But then I… started wanting that. Started wanting – wanting you. And I _freaked_ out. And I asked Tina what to do."

"You asked _Tina_ first?"

"Well, I asked Hobbs, but he just said 'this is above my pay grade'," Dirk imitates Hobbs' midwestern tone, "and told me to talk to Tina."

"And Tina told you that you were, um. 'Demisexual'."

Dirk nods and looks up at Todd though his eyelashes. "It means that I don't feel sexual attraction to someone unless I have, er. A strong emotional attachment to them."

"You've never had that before?"

"You're the first person who's ever stuck by me long enough that I could fall in – " he blanches. "Uh, that I could grow to – to – to quite like."

Todd stares at Dirk through wide eyes and swallows. "I, uh. I quite like you too, Dirk."

"It's not just, um. Attraction?"

Todd shakes his head, almost before Dirk finishes the question. "No. Fuck no. I – I can't do that. I don't really do that. But especially not with – with you. I couldn't. I can't. You're my – my – my best friend. And I – I want that forever. To be your best friend. And also – " he trails off.

"And also," Dirk agrees.

The two men stare at each other, wide-eyed and terrified, until Todd asks, "so, uh. What do we – what do we do now?"

"Like, _right_ now?" Dirk's eyes get, somehow, even wider.

"No! I mean, um. No?" he drags a hand across his mouth and says hoarsely, "maybe? But I meant, like. In general? What do we – what do we do now?"

"I stay upset with you for a little while," Dirk admits, and Todd sags in relief.

"Good," he mutters.

Dirk opts to ignore that, and adds, "And we – we fancy each other?"

Todd nods, almost timid. "Yes please," he says softly.

There's another long silence as they both process. Todd digs his fingernails into his palm and says, "ow," quietly.

"Did you just pinch yourself to make sure you were awake?" Dirk beams when Todd nods sheepishly. "Depending on your thought process, I'm flattered."

"You should be very flattered," says Todd. "I'm still not sure this isn't a hallucination."

"It's real," Dirk assures him smugly. They both sit in _something_ resembling contended silence, and then Dirk sputters, "oh, _shit_!"

"What? What?" Todd shoots to his feet, looking terrified when Dirk pops up as well.

"Hallucinations!" He's halfway down the hallway already and bursts into the bathroom, then runs back out and towards Todd. "Todd, it's late, and you didn't take your medication!" He thrusts a pill bottle into Todd's hands and frantically reaches for a half-empty glass of water on the counter. "And you got yourself all worked up! Oh god, please hurry."

"Dirk."

"Here!" He spins around with the glass of water and holds it out to Todd.

" _Dirk_."

"Todd!"

"Dirk, I took it already."

"No you didn't! I – I checked the bottle in the bathroom when you left."

"Amanda gave me one of – wait. What do you mean?" Todd squints at Dirk, carefully steps forward and takes the glass of water out of his hands. "How would you have…checked? What does that even mean?"

Dirk has the self-awareness to look a bit abashed, but his voice is firm when he says, "you didn't pick up your refill yet this month, and there are only four pills left. It's – it's the seventeenth, and you should have three left."

Todd goggles at Dirk. Dirk, who hasn't checked a shopping list in months. Dirk, who doesn't fill in paperwork even if _physically threatened_. Dirk, who isn't sure what utilities are, let alone how to pay them. Dirk, who apparently knows what date Todd needs to pick up his medication, and memorizes how many pills he should have left on any given day. "Amanda gave me one of hers, when we were sitting together outside," he says softly, barely focusing on the words. He blindly reaches for the counter and sets down the glass of water and the pill bottle, then grabs the back of Dirk's elbows, gazing up at him in wonder. "I'm fine," he reassures Dirk. "I'm fine."

"You're fine," Dirk repeats, shuffling even closer to Todd. They both stare at each other in silence, breathing each other in. Dirk carefully, tentatively sets his hands on Todd's shoulders, and is infinitely relieved when Todd doesn't shy away.

Neither is sure which of them moves first, but it's barely another breath before they're kissing. It's not a frantic kiss or a terrified kiss. It's soft and careful, but sure. Dirk presses his lips to Todd's again and Todd responds beautifully, tilting his chin up and nosing against Dirk's cheek. Dirk hums in surprised pleasure and Todd just – Todd just _melts_. If it weren't for his tight grip on the back of Dirk's arms, he feels like he might slither to the floor, collapse all together. He pours himself against Dirk's body, leans into his space, presses even more tightly to his chest.

Todd is more shocked than anyone to find that his heart isn't racing. He's boneless and amazed and joyous, but not overwhelmed, not frantic. Dirk is kissing him in small, patient sips, pressing his lips to the corners of his mouth, running his nose through his beard, and Todd feels good. He feels – he feels _so good_.

"Dirk," he whispers, dumbfounded, and Dirk huffs a soft laugh into his mouth.

"I know," he says quietly, and incredibly, Todd believes him. He believes that Dirk knows everything he needs to know, that there aren't secrets between them. That he has all of the information, and he can make his own choices, and that – amazingly – he's still chosen Todd.

They stand there in the middle of the kitchen, breathing in the same air, holding each other for long enough that Todd loses track, but eventually Dirk yawns in his ear, a jaw-cracking sigh. They kiss twice more, and then Todd manages to uncurl his fingers from Dirk's arms, takes a half step back. Dirk makes a protesting noise, follows him forward, but Todd gently holds him back, strokes patient fingers along his biceps and the inside of his elbows. "We should go to bed," he says, his voice husky with emotion. Dirk's eyes widen, and Todd hastens to add, "separately. Um. In our own rooms."

Dirk swallows and ducks his head, and Todd reaches up instinctively to brush a flop of hair out of his eyes.

"Can we – can we talk more tomorrow?" Dirk asks, suddenly shy, and Todd nods quickly, immediately.

"Yes. Yes, please. Yes." There's no response to that but another kiss, and they lose another minute pressed together, chaste but shivery with emotion. Todd finally steps back towards the hall, tugs Dirk after him. He bumps the living room and kitchen switches with his elbow, then stands in the dim light for another moment, looking up at the gleam of the streetlights reflected in Dirk's eyes. "Wow," he whispers, and Dirk echoes him.

It takes an eon of soft touches to separate, but Todd finally stands on his own in front of his bedroom door, watching Dirk take the half dozen steps towards his own. They share another long gaze, then Dirk yawns again and Todd chuckles. "'night, Dirk," he says, halfway into his room.

"Goodnight, Todd."

Todd kicks off his shoes, pulls his shirt and hoodie off in one tug, steps his socks off, and sits heavily on the edge of his bed. The last two hours of his life have been, frankly, entirely unbelievable. But it feels shockingly good, where they ended the night. Dirk doesn't hate him. He – he actually doesn't hate himself, either. There's going to be a reckoning, and a lot of talking, and a lot of work. But he actually… gets to have Dirk? Not only in his life, but in his arms, at least. Possibly in his bed (though he's making no assumptions).

He flops backwards on the bed, feet still planted on the floor, and presses his fingers to his lips. Lips that had just been kissing Dirk.

Wow.

It's not long before he can feel his eyes sinking shut and he rolls sideways, shoves his feet under the blanket on the bed and tugs a pillow under his head. He's asleep before he realizes it.

* * *

It's almost four more months before Todd sees Dirk's body again, and he doesn't regret a single second of it.

They kiss a lot.

Like, a _lot_.

Small, tender kisses in the kitchen; terrified, we're-going-to-die kisses on cases; giggling, adrenaline-filled kisses when they don't die. Todd wakes up before Dirk and tentatively crawls into bed with him, noses under his ear, wakes him up with the sweet pressure of lips on skin. Dirk explores Todd's mouth and his neck and his shoulders, and Todd digs his fingers into his palms and takes slow, juddering breaths, willing his body to stay still, his hips to not twitch.

They stay in another hotel on a case in Oregon and they pass out in one bed, fall asleep sharing the same air, wake up tasting morning breath and the soft, plush press of lips together.

Dirk sprawls out over Todd while they watch movies, slowly creeps his mouth closer to Todd's, and they watch less and less of each movie as the weeks pass. Todd pops in Star Trek IV – the one with the whales – and Dirk almost immediately nips at his earlobe. Todd _squeaks_ and says desperately, "no wait, you have to watch this one, it's the only one that actually matters," but barely lasts half an hour before he's licking his way into Dirk's mouth, searing and slow.

Despite two years of living in each other's pockets, it feels like learning each other anew. Dirk learns that Todd is ticklish, that he loves having his hair tugged, that he goes pale and desperate when Dirk's fingers are in his mouth. Todd learns how sensitive Dirk's ears are, that Dirk loves being grabbed roughly, that he prefers to sleep as the little spoon.

They start off separating for bed every night, but cuddle on the couch, on the floor, in their bedrooms, and split to sleep later and later, barely dragging themselves off to bed alone with sleep-heavy limbs. Eventually, Dirk passes out on Todd's bed while they watch terrible YouTube compilation videos, and Todd wakes up hours later with a crick in his neck, folded on top of Dirk. They sleep together most nights after that.

Todd wakes up one morning hard, spooning Dirk and nestled up against his ass. He rolls his hips indulgently for a few moments before he realizes where he is, that he's awake, that it isn't a dream. He freezes in terror and shame and almost manages to pull away before Dirk grabs his arm and pulls it more firmly against his chest. "Shh," he murmurs, half asleep. "I like it. Don't worry."

There's a lot of that.

They both take incredibly long showers, and carefully do _not_ walk in on each other. Todd can sometimes hear Dirk in his room, stifling gasps, creaking bedsprings, and he bites his lip so hard he can taste copper and turns up his music. Dirk discovers that Todd makes muffled little grunts when he comes and literally walks into a wall.

* * *

  
  


It's four months of this before Dirk asks for – for more.

"Not that this isn't _lovely_ ," he explains nervously, playing with the zipper of his favorite jacket. "I don't want to pressure you – at all! But if you'd be comfortable, I'd love to, er."

Todd waits, holding his breath.

"To, er. Well, to have sex with you?"

Todd surreptitiously pinches himself and counts to five before carefully asking, "what does that mean to you?"

Dirk sputters a bit. "What do you mean, ' _what does that mean_ '?"

"Well, there are a lot of different ways that people define 'sex', and I don't want to make any assumptions."

Dirk's eyes widen and glaze over as he – perhaps for the first time – contemplates the full range of activities that he might be able to enjoy with Todd. He's done his fair share of "research" (porn) and research (sex education websites that Tina texts him), but there's been a staggering gap between what he knows exists and what he's thought about in terms of his own pursuits. "Oh," he says faintly.

"We could… start small?" Todd offers.

"Small, yes," Dirk nods jerkily, staring into the distance. There's a long tentative silence, and then Farah bursts back into the office out of breath, her arms full of spider plant babies, and the case is back on.

* * *

It's another three days before the case is over and they get a breather, and Todd wakes Dirk up with a kiss on his shoulder and a mug of tea on the nightstand. Dirk flops over Todd's lap and nuzzles his hip, and Todd huffs a laugh, pets his hair, takes a sip from his own coffee. They have a slow and sweet cuddle, and after Dirk stumbles down the hall to relieve himself and brush teeth, they have no reasons to get out of bed.

Dirk leans over to kiss Todd's ear and nuzzle his hair and Todd makes a pleased, relaxed noise. A noise he would have never thought himself capable of making. Dirk beams and buries his face in Todd's neck, so, so happy.

"Hey," Todd says, quiet and joyful. He turns his head to the side, coaxes Dirk's mouth up to his, presses their lips together. It's a soft and languid kiss for several minutes until Todd tentatively raises one hand to Dirk's head, strokes his hair, carefully scrapes his blunt fingernails down the back of his neck. Dirk shivers and whimpers and drops his head back to Todd's shoulder, giving him easier access. Todd scratches his neck and shoulders through his pajama shirt, and Dirk's whimpers get reedier and shakier. He distracts his mouth by licking Todd's neck, a hot, slick stripe across his pulse point, and Todd grunts softly, digging his nails into Dirk's neck with surprise.

It's a self-maintaining cycle from there; Todd grabs and pets and scratches Dirk's neck, his shoulders, his back – Dirk whimpers and licks, sucks on Todd's shoulders, shivers into his lap. Before he knows it, he's straddling Todd and pinning him to the headboard, writhing against him, moaning softly as Todd sweeps both of his hands down his back, up his sides, gently brushing his nipples through the soft fabric of his shirt. "Oh," Dirk gasps, grinding against Todd. "Oh, oh god."

It's no further than they've gone before but there's a new electric charge between them, an air of determination and possibility. Dirk doesn't pull back when his thighs start to tremble, Todd doesn't push him away when he can feel the blood thrumming in his veins, warming the sore points Dirk's sucked into his skin. "Fuck," he hisses as Dirk grinds into him again, again, brushing their clothed erections together. "Fuck, Dirk."

"Yes," Dirk says clearly, surprising himself. "Whatever that means, yes."

Todd leans back slightly with effort, palms Dirk's chin and raises his face so they can meet gazes. "Let's start small," he reminds Dirk. "Fucking can mean a lot of things."

"I want to see you," Dirk says confidently. He feels surprisingly calm and in control. They both know that Dirk is the one who moves things forward in their relationship, physically. He's new to wanting sex, let alone having it, and Todd's the one who fucked up, who crossed boundaries. He leaves it up to Dirk to decide when and how they go further, explore more. Now they're in unknown territory, and Dirk is deciding.

Todd takes time to think it through. He doesn't want to rush anything with Dirk, but he wants – he wants so much. Fuck, he can barely articulate how much he wants to do with Dirk. But this is a beginning. This is a starting place, not a benchmark. This is good.

"Yes," he says. "Okay." His hand is still on Dirk's face and he pushes him slightly, guides him far enough away that he can reach behind his own head and pull off his t-shirt. Dirk gapes at his chest and Todd chuckles a little, genuinely flattered by his reaction.

"Wow," Dirk breathes, leaning farther back to see more of Todd. He drinks in his pale skin, sparse chest hair, and wiry muscles, then immediately leans back in to press their mouths together again. "Wow." He pets Todd's shoulders and chest while they kiss, and the heat rises between them again. It climbs to a simmering point, and Dirk catches himself squirming in Todd's lap again, surging forward to press their torsos together, grinds against his hard dick. It's incredible, it's overwhelming, and it doesn't last five minutes before he snaps backwards with a gasp, scrambling off Todd's lap.

"What? What is it?" Todd asks, straightening up.

"If I stay there, I am _never_ going to get to see more of your body," Dirk says, panting. He reaches down and adjusts himself in his pants, catches Todd's gaze lingering on his crotch when he looks up. Todd looks somewhat bashful, but he licks his lips and scrambles up onto his knees, mirroring Dirk's pose.

"What do you want now?" he asks, and Dirk wordlessly points at his boxers, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder. Todd laughs, and it's good. He's not tense, he's not upset, he wants what Dirk wants. He scrubs one hand through his hair, sheepish, but then slides both of his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, begins to tug them down.

Dirk breathes softly, his eyes fixed on the trail of dark hair leading down from Todd's naval, slowly being revealed. The elastic waistband pulls down his dick as he drags the boxers but it quickly springs free when he slides them down his thighs, shifts to kick them off.

And then Todd is nude. He's flushed and his chest heaving as he holds himself carefully still for Dirk. "Well, this is me," he says awkwardly. His hands hover in the air for a moment, like he's not sure what he wants to do with them, then come to rest on his thighs.

"Wow," Dirk says again. "This is… this is the hottest thing I have ever seen. Like, in my life."

"Yeah, right," Todd says, but Dirk shushes him.

"Hottest thing. I have ever. Seen," he says firmly. He rakes his eyes over Todd's body – his chest, his thighs, his dick, his waist – everything he's fantasized about for a very, very long time. He shakes his head in disbelief and crawls back over to Todd, takes a tentative breath, then reaches forward to rest his hands on Todd's shoulder. Todd breathes out all in a rush, and Dirk drags his hands down Todd's chest. He brushes his thumb over a nipple, and Todd lets out a soft, broken sound, his chest twitching with the effort to remain still. "In my life," Dirk adds softly, then does it again.

"Fuck," Todd says. 

Dirk slowly – very slowly – runs his hands all over Todd's chest, memorizing every inch. He widens his touch to include Todd's waist, his sides, his shoulders. He explores Todd's skin, his shivers, his sounds; Todd is trying so hard to stay quiet, to stay still, but he's unable to silence all the soft gasps and moans that Dirk's hands elicit.

Dirk loses track of time like this. Learning Todd's body, leaning in to kiss him, to lick him, to smell him. He's shining with sweat, with effort, and Dirk is drunk on the taste of him.

Finally though, he leans back to look Todd over again. Todd is panting. There are red marks in his thighs where he's dug in his fingernails, and there's a hoarse undertone to his moans. Dirk bites his lip, unsure if he can say what he wants next, but Todd – even through the haze of arousal, the waves of sensation – notices. He always notices.

"What," Todd pants. "What do you want. Fuck, anything. You can have anything, Dirk."

"Touch yourself," Dirk blurts, then covers his mouth with both hands. That is… so much more forward than he'd planned on being. But –

But it's true. It's what he wants. They've come to terms with the last eight months, how Todd had erred, had learned more about Dirk than Dirk had been prepared to share. How he sounds, how he looks, how he touches himself. But something lingering in Dirk is that Todd has seen him. Todd knows his body, at least somewhat. And it's – it's not fair. He wants –

"I want to see you touch yourself," he says bravely. "I want that to be equal. I want to see you – see you come."

"Wow," Todd says. "I, um. I wasn't expecting that?"

"Is that too much? Is that not okay? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have –"

"No!" Todd shivers and shakes his head. "No, no it's not too much. It's – wow. It's great. It's totally great."

"Oh. Then, um. Good. Yes. That's, uh – that's what I want."

They stare at each other for a beat, and then Todd carefully uncurls his fingers from where he has them dug into his thighs. Dirk eyes the marks hungrily, then looks back up at Todd's face. Todd is – he's clearly so turned on he can hardly see straight, but he takes a moment to meet Dirk's eyes, to soften his gaze, to smile at him. He nods reassuringly, then slides his hand over and brushes his palm over the head of his dick. He moans, and his eyes flutter shut.

"Oh," he says, and suddenly Dirk's mouth is watering with desire.

"Oh," he echoes.

Todd strokes his fingers loosely over his skin, acclimatizing himself to touch, to pressure, to sensation. He can feel tension building in his thighs – so quickly, what the fuck – and tries to strike a careful balance between making it last, putting on a good show for Dirk, and touching himself the way he usually would, being honest, letting Dirk see him as he would be on his own. He draws his left hand down beneath his right, fondles his balls, squeezes them gently, and he can hear Dirk's throat click as he swallows.

"Hey Dirk," he says, not opening his eyes.

"Hm?"

"Can you help me out?" He pulls his right hand away from his body, holds it out towards Dirk, and waits.

It takes Dirk a moment to understand what he's asking, and when he does, the small shivery sigh he gives is erotic enough that Todd squeezes his balls again, pulling a sharp sensation to dull the pleasure. "Yes," he breathes, and leans forward, noses into Todd's palm, presses a kiss there. Then without warning, he licks Todd's hand, licks it again, leaving a slick shine on his palm, on his fingers. Todd chokes and his fingers spasm and Dirk laves one last smear on the base of his thumb.

"Shit," Todd mutters, pulling his hand back. "Oh shit, oh god." He runs his hand over himself again and sighs with pleasure at the wet slide of skin-on-skin. Dirk sits back on his heels and gapes as Todd spreads the moisture and tightens his fist.

He works himself slowly, tries to keep calm, but the knowledge that Dirk is there, is watching him – it's enough to set his blood boiling. His skin feels too tight, his lungs feel too small, and the arousal sitting in his stomach builds and grows to fill his whole body. It's the familiar slide of his hands over skin – fisting the base, thumbing the head, then running his palm down and up – but he feels the sensation so much more keenly, sharply.

"Ah – ahh –" he moans, throwing his head back. It thumps against the wall behind him and Dirk gasps at the sound, but Todd doesn't stop moving, his biceps flexing and shifting under his skin. Dirk can't decide where to look, can't settle his gaze – he drinks in the sweat darkening Todd's hair, the tremors in his thighs, the trembling of his lower lip. He greedily watches Todd's hands move, one over his dick, one stroking the soft skin of his balls, and notices a shift in his posture. Todd widens his thighs, leans back on the wall, and slides the tip of his left fingers further back, pressing firmly on the smooth, taut skin behind. A deeper grunt forces itself out, and Dirk can't look away.

"Dirk," Todd groans.

"I'm here," Dirk says, shifting a bit closer.

"Dirk, fuck. This feels – oh my god. Fuck."

"What do you need," Dirk urges, rising onto his knees, his hands fluttering in mid-air.

"Kiss me," Todd says, dampness gathering in his lashes. "Please, oh god. Please."

Dirk is upon him, presses their lips together frantically in a force of pressure and lips and tongues, wraps his arms around his shoulders, and – just like that, Todd is coming. His cry is guttural, overwhelmed, and he spills over his own hands, splashes Dirk's shirt, shakes in his arms. "Oh god," he repeats into Dirk's mouth. "Oh god."

The heat and the wetness and the smell fill Dirk up, make him buoyant, and he frantically licks into Todd's mouth, filthy and desperate, brings his trembling fingers to his own shirt collar. Todd is still shivering, still panting, but he helps Dirk pull off his shirt, cursing weakly at the buttons, tugs at his pajama bottoms. It doesn't take a minute before Dirk is bare as well, writhing against Todd's over-sensitive skin, whimpering into his ears.

"Touch me," Dirk begs, and it's a dozen strokes until he's shaking, crying out in Todd's ear, painting his stomach with his release.

They kneel there, pressed together, gasping and laughing and kissing, for endless minutes, until the trembling in their thighs force them both to sit back on their heels. They lean forward, still nosing wonderingly at each other's faces, kissing smiles into cheeks and chins and mouths.

"Wow," Dirk says finally.

"Wow," Todd agrees.

They slip sideways carefully until they're both leaning up against the wall, hands clasped. Dirk's pajama buttons and underwear are still bunched up at his knees, and he wiggles and kicks until they slide off his feet, and then they're tangled together and breathing once more. The mess on Todd's stomach is getting cold, but he can't bring himself to care when he has Dirk in his arms, in his lungs.

"Thank you," Dirk says, and Todd twists, blue eyes wide and earnest.

"No, Dirk – thank _you_ ," but Dirk shushes him.

"No, I mean. Thank you for – for letting me see you. I… I really needed that."

Todd nods, presses a kiss into his shoulder.

It will still be another ten minutes before Todd unpeels himself to shower, and another five still before he can actually drag himself out of the bed, but for now, they are there. They are touching, they are together, they are sharing a moment.

And there will be so, so many more moments.

**Author's Note:**

> At a virtual craft night with my friends:  
> "So yeah, it's about Dirk discovering masturbation, and Todd walking in on him, repeatedly, despite his best efforts. Y'know. Dick Gently."  
> Friends:  
> "Have you considered calling it Jerk Gently?"  
> "What about just, Penis Gently?"  
> "Phallus Gently."  
> "What is WRONG with you guys? Dirk Genitals is RIGHT THERE."
> 
> Please comment, if you feel so moved! <3


End file.
